Sirius did not like the sound of his eleven-year-old feet plodding up the stairs to the Headmaster's office. His shoes made quiet, nervous thuds with every step, reminding him of how small and scared he was. He sounded even more fragile than he felt beside Professor McGongall, who might be the only witch alive capable of scaring his parents. He took a final deep breath and followed her into Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, young Mr. Black," Dumbledore said serenely, "the man of the hour. Have a seat."

"Hello, Professor," Sirius said quietly, wishing he could speak at a normal volume with his parents so close to him. The old wizard had conjured enough squashy chairs for all attending parties to sit comfortably. Mr. and Mrs. Black, however, elected to stand. Sirius hoped he would not get into any more trouble with them by choosing to sit. He felt his father's gaze on the back of his neck, even though he refused to meet it.

"I understand there are some concerns about your son's Sorting," Dumbledore began, his eyes on Sirius's parents. "And while I am happy to hear your opinions, I am afraid that the Sorting Hat's judgment is final."

"What is the word of a hat against generations of pure blood?" Walburga asked, eyes flitting over the Hat, apparently asleep, on a stool.

Dumbledore smiled. "The Hat sees inside the wearer's head, his thoughts and memories and abilities. Sirius's personal experiences far outweigh those of his ancestors. Surely the two of you remember you Sortings and how the Hat works?"

Orion squared his shoulders. "The Blacks are proud to say that it has been centuries since the Hat has taken more than ten seconds to Sort us."

"Then how curious that your son should be a Hatstall," the Hat said, roused from its slumber.

The Mr. and Mrs. Black both furrowed their brows, but neither would admit not knowing the word "Hatstall." Truthfully, Sirius wouldn't have known it either had he not been friends with Peter, whose first Sorting was cause for much gossip and speculation.

"The Hat took over five minutes deciding what to do with Sirius," Dumbledore clarified gently. "If the Hat and your son were deliberating on what House he would best fit, then I am inclined to believe it was not a fluke but a carefully made decision."

"Is it true, boy?" Orion asked. "Did you talk with the Hat?"

Sirius nodded glumly.

"When you asked what would happen if you were not in Slytherin, I didn't think you were actually planning on betraying the family House. What could possibly have possessed you to embarrassing us like this?"

The Hat interceded. "I decided to put Sirius Black in Gryffindor. Despite whatever cunning plans he may have in mind, whatever great things he will go on to do, it was apparently that he has—what did we call it?—a 'hero complex,' right?"

Sirius nodded more enthusiastically this time. He had not expected the Hat to defend him so well when he had been so insistent on subterfuge.

"It's settled, then," Dumbledore said. "The Sorting Hat has declared twice that your son is, indeed, a Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall, as his Head of House, do you have any objections to this young man's Sorting?"

McGonagall stared coldly at the Blacks. Orion was unmoved, but Walburga dropped her gaze. "Sirius already gets on famously with his classmates and, I am told, shows wonderful promise in Charms. I am honored to have him in my House."

"You're all mad," Orion said in exasperation. "But it's no matter; we'll send him to Durmstrang."

"No!" Sirius shouted. His gall surprised everyone in the room, including himself. "I already have friends here, and I won't leave Regulus at a school without me." His father merely clenched his jaw, as any punishment he might have administered would be unacceptable in present company.

Silence settled over the office like dust. As the Blacks prepared to recite the necessary niceties to the Headmaster, the door opened, and a very large man walked in.

"So sorry to be late," Professor Slughorn apologized, wiping pastry crumbs from his chin. "What did you need me for, Headmaster?"

"We were just about finished meeting with Sirius Black's parents regarding his Sorting. Horace, you may remember their post from yesterday."

Slughorn grunted in agreement. "Yes, Filius was telling me about the boy's performance in Charms class yesterday. I would have loved him to be in my House—" Sirius swore he saw McGonagall glaring daggers at the other professor at that "—but I respect my colleagues and the Sorting Hat's decision."

The Head of Slytherin House proved to be a sufficient distraction for Sirius's parents. McGongall took the opportunity to whisper in his ear. "I am sorry you had to sit through that."

"I won't have to go to Durmstrang, will I?" he asked with more innocence than he felt. He knew his professor would be sympathetic to him even when he voiced his anger at his parents, but he knew pity to be a master manipulator.

"Not if you don't want to."

He nodded and added, "Did you mean what you said about me?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Yes, I did. But if you drop any more inkwells or start any more fights, I will not hesitate to give you detention, Gryffindor or not. Am I understood?" The last sentence was loud enough for his father to hear, and he raised his eyebrows. Perhaps he thought his son was getting a well-deserved talking-to.

"Yes ma'am."

"Orion, Walburga," Dumbledore said, "Sirius needs to join his classmates for breakfast before classes. I believe he has your class this morning, Minerva? Are there any further concerns?"

Orion was still rather red from his inability to publically punish his son, while Walburga had grown steadily whiter over the course of the meeting. The two of them remained as tense as ever and curtly declined to continue the discussion. With that, Sirius and Professor McGonagall left for the Great Hall. As he descended the spiral staircase, Sirius heard Professor Slughorn sucking up to his parents.

"It is an honor to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Black. Your nieces are doing quite well…"

"Thank you, Professor," Sirius said to his Head of House when she left him at the Gryffindor table. His four roommates looked at him curiously.

"So you're still in Gryffindor?" Peter asked.

"No—he's sitting at our table and he's a Slytherin," James jabbed.

"Maybe he's saying his goodbyes," Remus suggested.

"I'm a Gryffindor," Sirius clarified. "The Hat said I have a hero complex, whatever that means. My parents want to send me to Durmstrang, but I don't think McGonagall will let them."

"We have her for Transfiguration soon," Remus pointed out. "Do you think she'll be a hard teacher?"

"Have you seen how tight her bun is?" Frank asked. "She's like a walking stereotype of a strict teacher!"

"But we're her House," James said. "She can't be ithat/i bad to her own students."

Sirius sighed and held his tongue.

Dear Reg,

Thanks for the letter. I prefer your sass to Mother and Father's Howlers any day. I expect you got an earful from them about our parent-teacher conference earlier this week. Did you do anything mischievous while they were away, like sneaking biscuits from the pantry? If you didn't take advantage of an opportunity like that, I am ashamed to call you my little brother.

Hogwarts is wonderful. Some of the classes are pretty dull, though. History of Magic is worse than anything those governesses or tutors taught us, but it's taught by a ghost, which is really wicked. He floats through the blackboard to come into class, but other than that, he's a bore. Herbology is pretty bad, too, unless you like gardening. I heard that later on, we'll get to study some cool plants, but right now, it's mostly just basic potion ingredients and harmless flowers. Charms is probably the sort of class you're interested in, because that's the kind of magic you can do cool things with, like levitating and summoning and conjuring. Maybe you heard from Mother, but I did really well in that class. Well, I sort of levitated an inkwell over a girl's head, and it spilled on her, but it was an accident—I swear on Mother's spiky chin hair.

Transfiguration is hard. It's turning matches into needles and then back again, that sort of thing. My mate James is the only one who's better than me at it in our whole class. When we turned our needles back into matches, mine wouldn't catch fire, but his did, even if it shot some weird sparks. Potions is rubbish, and it's taught by your future Head of House, Professor Slughorn. He's like the king of suck-ups, so you'll get along. Defense Against the Dark Arts is cool, since it's taught by an Auror taking a year off. Don't tell our parents that I like that class, or else they might stroke out. A Gryffindor and opposed to the Dark Arts? The horror! I like Astronomy a lot more than any of my friends do. I think it might be because I'm named after a star. Is that too dorky? I've heard that your magic can change depending on the stars, that Mars might make it stronger, but Venus will make it more stable or whatever. Useful stuff.

If you weren't so hellbent on pleasing Mother and Father, you might like my friends. James Potter is going to be my best mate, I can tell. He loves Quidditch more than anything in the world, and he's making it his personal mission to coax Guinevere Golightly to the foreground of her picture. He's always bickering with this girl, Lily, in our class over the stupidest things. This morning, she criticized him for putting the milk in his goblet after he poured his tea, which got nearly the whole table arguing, or at least all of the first-years. Then there's Remus, who's quiet and likes to study. He left after classes ended today saying his mum was sick, and he had to go home, but I didn't see him pack anything. Weird, right? One of my other roommates is Frank Longbottom—mention the name to Mother so she knows I have pureblood friends besides Aunt Dorea's son—though we haven't had a chance to talk much. So being a Gryffindor isn't too bad. There are plenty of cool wizards in our house and they aren't all "half-breeds and blood traitors" like Mother told us.

Anyway, if this letter gets much longer, my friends might start suspecting me of actually liking you or something. I expect another Harpy with your reply. – Sirius

P.S. First-years take flying lessons, too, but you grew up flying against me, so I know you'll do just fine. James and I are going to try out of the Quidditch team next year if we can. If first-years could have brooms, I'd tell you to do the same.

It was Friday evening when Sirius mailed his second letter to Regulus, and Remus had already vanished. Professor Sinistra had mentioned that Sunday was a full moon, so Sirius knew to expect his friend's departure, but he had thought it might wait until the day of rather than an entire weekend. Of course, if he wanted to pretend his mother really was ill, a weekend visit made more sense than a single day. Their entire dormitory noticed his absence during dinner.

"Did Remus seem okay to you during Charms today?" James asked.

"His mum's sick," Peter clarified. "Said she's been ill for a while."

"How'd he get home?" Jack asked, as though suddenly aware of how segregated Hogwarts was from the rest of the world.

"Flooed, probably," said James, who then went on to explain Floo travel to his Muggleborn housemate.

As Sirius listened to his friends, he once again debated his own course of action. He thought it best to plant ideas in James's head so he wouldn't seem itoo/i knowledgeable, but he could make sure that events progressed as they should. Though it didn't seem likely that anyone would soon suspect him of being from the future, as soon as Remus's condition became known, no theories would be too crazy, even for the wizarding world.

"You know," Sirius said, "I think he left his homework in the dorm."

"Yeah!" Peter chimed in. "It was all over his bed."

James furrowed his brow. "Why does it matter where Remus leaves his homework?"

"Because he has been the first of us to finish every single assignment so far," Sirius said. "While you've been arguing with Evans, he's been writing double the parchment requirement for all our essays. He read half the textbooks over the summer holiday! Does that sound like the sort of boy who leaves his homework on his bed?"

"He's probably just upset about his mum," James replied before changing the conversation. "Who wants to watch Quidditch tryouts with me tomorrow?"

While Frank, Jack, and Aloysius listened to James's plans for the weekend, Peter leaned close to Sirius, his tie sinking into a gravy boat in the process.

"I think it's weird Remus left his homework," he said.

"Do you?"

Peter looked nervously at James as he replied. "I think we should do it for him. Write his Herbology essay and answer the Charms questions. And that's just if he's back by Monday."

Sirius struggled to speak. He had hoped so much that it would be James to care about their friend, James to talk about anything but Quidditch, James to be the first to take up Moony's Homework Duty. He could barely remember who had first shown an interest in Remus's mysterious disappearances in his first life, only that it had taken over a year for them to puzzle it out. But now it was to be Peter who showed compassion, as though the universe was determined to make Peter Fucking Pettigrew likable.

"I'll take Charms if you take Herbology," Sirius managed. "Just make sure the handwriting isn't too similar to your own."

Peter nodded, a small smile spreading on his face.

"And Peter?" Sirius added. "Your tie is in the gravy."

The boy's smile faded, and his face turned Gryffindor-red. He avoided making eye-contact and chose to listen into James's Quidditch plans instead.

The boys were to wake up early enough to get top seats at the bleachers, which meant they could not afford to play Exploding Snap all night. When they had readied themselves for bed, and Frank and Peter were already snoring lightly, James propped himself on his elbows and looked at Sirius.

"Why do you care so much about Remus's homework?" The question was made poignant by the empty bed in the middle of the dorm still blanketed in parchment and books.

Sirius shrugged. "He's my friend. I think I'd want someone to look out for my marks if my mum got sick—not that she'd want him home to visit. Probably make her worse to see me polluting the shades of the House of Black. But Remus's mum needs him, so he needs us."

For now, that would be have to be enough.